


Isolation Crescendo

by BookGirlWithLove



Category: Sherlock (TV), Sherlock Holmes & Related Fandoms
Genre: COVID-19, First Kiss, Fluff, Isolation, M/M, Quarantine, Sherlock's Violin
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-03-17
Updated: 2020-03-17
Packaged: 2021-02-28 22:42:38
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,759
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23184967
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BookGirlWithLove/pseuds/BookGirlWithLove
Summary: Sherlock and John are isolated in 221B.  When Sherlock begins to play his violin, he unwittingly brings joy to Baker Street.
Relationships: Sherlock Holmes/John Watson
Comments: 57
Kudos: 191
Collections: Isolated Johnlock Collection





	Isolation Crescendo

**Author's Note:**

> All my love and thanks to my amazing beta, Obviously Sherlock. I would never be able to post a thing without her ability to keep my thoughts straight and help my choppy sentences flow!
> 
> Thank you to Carmilla Carmine for creating this collection!

When the Prime Minister finally got his head out of his ass, closed the schools, canceled large events, and instituted social distancing, John had already been working 12-hour days at the clinic for over two weeks. He wasn’t even aware of the new mandates until he woke up after a well deserved night’s rest to try to enjoy his only day off that week. 

As he walked downstairs from his room, he resigned himself to a morning at the shops and long lines. Sherlock wouldn’t have thought to go shopping to be sure they had what they needed to see them through more than a few days. Since the news of the virus began, Sherlock spouted the word, “Bored!” regularly and spent most of his time in his mind palace. Apparently, the possibility of contracting the virus caused even the most hardened criminals of London to stay inside. 

The few moments Sherlock and John did have in each other’s company, John made sure to keep a subtle eye on Sherlock’s breathing and general state of health. As a former addict and someone who thought of taking care of “transport” a nuisance, John knew if Sherlock contracted the virus it could hit him hard. John set alarms on his own phone to remind him to text Sherlock from the clinic at regular intervals to tell him to eat and drink. He knew Sherlock was probably ignoring him, but that wouldn’t stop John from trying.

As John walked into the kitchen, he was pleased to see Sherlock at the kitchen table staring into his microscope, as opposed to hanging upside down in his chair. Sherlock spoke without looking up. “Mycroft sent what we needed. He made sure to take care of Mrs. Hudson, as well. You have the day to relax.”

“Really?” John asked as he opened the refrigerator which was completely stocked. 

“Yes. And apparently he kept all the cake for himself.” 

John chuckled, which made Sherlock look up, blinking, not understanding the humor of his statement. 

“Well, I’m not sure what to do with myself now,” John said as he sat down. He drummed his fingers on his thighs looking around the kitchen. “It’s a nice day. Short walk?”

“Nope.”

John wasn’t about to be deterred. “Are you going to sit there all day? At least change out of those clothes. I know you were in them when I left for the clinic yesterday.” John didn’t add that seeing Sherlock in his low slung pajama bottoms and one of John’s old t-shirts was making him think things he shouldn’t. As gorgeous as Sherlock looked in bespoke, he looked just as amazing when he was in comfortable clothes with his hair mussed. 

John was staring at Sherlock’s exposed clavicle when he noticed that Sherlock was staring back at him. He pushed his chair back with a squeak and walked into the sitting room. 

“Um ... at least I’m going to open the windows,” John said quickly. “Air this flat out.”

Sherlock’s eyes continued to track John as he left the kitchen. It hadn’t escaped his notice that John had been staring a little more lately, and as much as Sherlock wished his feelings for his flatmate were reciprocated, he couldn’t let himself dwell. Things were more than good and that would have to be enough. 

*****

The morning slowly crept into afternoon with John on his blog and Sherlock finally showering, then jumping from experiment to experiment. John wasn’t at all surprised when Sherlock ended up stretched out in his chair, legs jumping and hands fidgeting with a squash ball. He didn’t want to think about what piece of furniture would be sacrificed if Sherlock decided to throw it. 

“Okay,” John closed his laptop and stood in front of Sherlock. “I’m going to make tea. Why don’t you play something for us?” He began to walk into the kitchen, “I’ve been at work so much I haven’t heard you play in forever. Miss it.”

It was the _miss it_ that made Sherlock stand up. He might not be as eager to embrace their new situation as John, but he also knew how hard John had been working lately, and it wasn’t likely to let up any time soon. If John wanted to hear Sherlock play, he would play.

Sherlock picked up his violin and began with a somber melody. 

John gently called out, “Maybe something light? It’s depressing enough out there as it is.”

Sherlock paused. Looking at John, he took in his tired face and slightly slumped posture. He set his shoulders, closed his eyes, and began again. 

Beginning in a resonant note, Sherlock gently pulled the bow across the strings. John looked up, a sentence of protest on his lips, until he recognized the [tune](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=kbJcQYVtZMo). He softly smiled and turned to face Sherlock. 

“Ode to Joy,” John happily sighed. “You know I love that one.” Tea forgotten, he walked toward the window by the couch, the wind gently blowing the curtains inside. 

Sherlock played for John. It was easy for him to be taken over by the music when it was for John. His eyes were closed. He began to sway closer and closer to the window behind his chair until he was completely facing it, almost leaning out of it, the sound of his violin filling Baker Street. With each stanza, he played louder, trying to capture the moment and give it to John.

John was mesmerized. He didn’t want it to end. 

Suddenly, out the window, John heard an accompanying sound. Ode to Joy on violin again, but an octave higher. He stretched out the window and looked, but he couldn’t see where the sound was coming from. But he heard it - he heard it loud and clear. He looked over to Sherlock excitedly, but Sherlock either didn’t notice or didn’t care. He played, swaying with the tune, adding his own flair as he went on.

Then John heard more. 

He heard a bright, airy sound, and this time he was able to see a woman playing a flute in the building across the street. She was standing sideways in her window to allow the sound of her music to travel. He saw the few people outside on the street stop and look up and around as they heard the music as well. 

A horn joined in, John couldn’t tell which instrument specifically, but it was robust and deep - and added the perfect satisfying and poetic accompaniment to the movement. 

Then, unbelievably, a drum. A soft, steady, thumping vibration - just enough to pull the piece together. John stretched as far as he could out the window and saw the player was one of Mrs. Turner’s married ones, down on the sidewalk right outside the door. He looked up at John with a smile and a nod. 

John noticed Mrs. Hudson standing on their front steps, a bright smile on her face as she took in the scene.

The music soared higher and higher, as each musician played the same tune but added their own individuality - their own voice. Sherlock led them all. John felt goosebumps all over his skin. 

There was no mistaking the atmosphere that surrounded Baker Street at this point. It filled their little section with the sounds of life. People were beginning to lean out their windows, humming along - no words, just the tune of the soaring notes in light sounds and deep hums. As more joined in, it resonated and added to the makeshift orchestra. Children were dancing, people had their mobiles stretched out their windows, filming the scene. 

In a small office across London, a man sat alone at his desk with his eyes closed, CCTV opened on his computer, an empty plate with cake crumbs in front of him, humming along. 

John ducked back in and turned to Sherlock, who was completely lost in the music. He was playing as he hadn’t in a long time. He played with passion. Strength. Fervor. John couldn't take his eyes off of him. 

Then Sherlock began to play softer, slower - conducting from his violin, sending the signal to his fellow performers the piece was closing, and they all took their cue. One by one they softly ended, until one perfect sound remained. Everyone turned to the lone man in the window of 221B.

Sherlock played the last stanza entranced, letting the beautiful, melodious notes flow out of his violin. John turned to look at him, and had never loved him more. 

After the last emotional note, Sherlock stood still at the window, violin still in place at neck, breathing in deeply. 

Baker Street broke out into applause. You couldn’t hear above the din - the clapping, the whistling, the cheers of “Bravo!” coming from every window. It was the sound of hope, it was the sound of life in the world, and knowing they would all be able to fully embrace it again soon.

John turned and looked at Sherlock. “You did that,” he said in a choked voice, tears filling his eyes. “You made that,” he pointed outside, “happen.”

Sherlock looked up with glazed eyes, confused, and then looked out the window, the moment finally sinking in. It wasn't the sort of attention he was comfortable receiving and he didn’t know how to respond to John. He didn’t know how it evolved into the sound of the many instruments that suddenly echoed in his head, but he knew why he started. 

“I did it for you.” 

John huffed out a breath and his knees went weak. He recovered and slowly walked over to Sherlock and ran his hand up Sherlock’s arm, stopping on his shoulder. He gently tipped forward until his forehead was resting on Sherlock’s chest. Sherlock closed his eyes and tentatively embraced John with his hand still holding the bow. He dipped his head until it was resting on John’s, still unsure what was happening. 

John stood there a moment, then stepped back and looked into Sherlock’s eyes. He reached over and gently took the violin and bow out of Sherlock’s hands and placed them on his chair. 

They looked at each other. It wasn’t a difficult decision. John wrapped his hand around Sherlock’s neck, stood up on his toes, and brought their lips together. Sherlock immediately embraced John and they kissed with the force of years of longing and secrets kept inside. 

With the sounds of clapping and cheering still happening outside on Baker Street, with the world in a state of uncertainty, they found the love they needed in each other.

**Author's Note:**

> This fic was inspired by the amazing people of Italy and their balcony singing, as well as the flashmob video of Ode to Joy that I linked to in the story. I hope it brought a little brightness to your day.


End file.
